


wisteria

by jackpack



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Trains, What more do you want?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 18:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackpack/pseuds/jackpack
Summary: Since getting back from Derry, Eddie caught- something.Not a bug, not a virus, but it’s infectious all the same. It was an idea that had wriggled into the back of his mind and stuck- no, not stuck. Taken root, and then spread through the rest of his thoughts, like some kind of invasive plant. Wisteria, winding up and around his brain stem, telling him "I shouldn’t be here anymore; this isn’t where I belong."--Eddie gets a divorce, some Taco Bell, and a train ticket.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 447





	wisteria

**Author's Note:**

> my brain needed something to do while i produced the other night, so loml migz (@eddiekissbrak) gave me three prompts: Taco Bell, thunderstorms, and Eddie's first train ride. This is what came of that.

Since getting back from Derry, Eddie caught- something. 

Not a bug, not a virus, but it’s infectious all the same. It was an idea that had wriggled into the back of his mind and stuck- no, not stuck. Taken root, and then spread through the rest of his thoughts, like some kind of invasive plant. Wisteria, winding up and around his brain stem, telling him  _ I shouldn’t be here anymore; this isn’t where I belong.  _

Myra is- maybe somewhat justifiably, Eddie doesn’t know anymore- upset when he comes home. It’s different than last time, though, coming back to his mom after fighting It. He’s not covered in sewage, for one, and for another,  _ Myra’s not his mom _ . 

Myra is… very  _ similar _ to his mom. It feels wrong that he hadn’t noticed that before- or, maybe he had, but he hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to notice, so he’d let it slip by. Things had been rough, after his mom died, and he’d been looking for- something, someone, anything,  _ anyone  _ to keep him afloat. 

To think, the people that’d  _ always  _ kept him afloat had just been…  _ out there,  _ this whole time. 

He’s never gonna stop being bitter over this clown bullshit. 

The bitterness fertilizes the wisteria thoughts, too. It’s added flavor to it all:  _ I shouldn’t be here anymore; I never should have been here in the first place, maybe. This isn’t where I belong; it never was, probably.  _ Where would he have been, if he hadn’t had eighteen years of friendship ripped from his chest and nothing to fill the hole that it had left? 

It takes two months of being home and one month of couple’s counseling for Eddie to hire a divorce lawyer, and another three after that for everything to be processed. 

He gets Taco Bell to celebrate.

That shouldn’t be a celebration- and, insofar as they go, even if it  _ was  _ a celebration, it’s a pathetic one. But, it’s one of the many things he’d never allowed himself to have. Fast food hadn’t really been a part of Eddie’s life; he’d dabbled in it in college, when he’d been broke and living away from home for the first time, but he’d quickly just taught himself to cook instead. The nutritional articles his mom had shoveled by the dozens into his inbox had warded him off of it. 

All of this had just-  _ stuck _ , when he married Myra. Eddie Kaspbrak made his own food, meal prepped, went the extra few miles to go to the expensive, organic grocery store to get things. He worked out, stopped just short of counting calories, took care of himself. 

The Taco Bell was fucking disgusting and did a fucking  _ number  _ on his digestive tract. 

It was the best goddamn thing he’d ever eaten. 

The second thing he does, after the Taco Bell, is call Richie; not really because of the special occasion. It was a rhythm they’d fallen into, after everything, getting to know the people they’d all become. There was a text group chat that was a lot more active than any group full of forty year olds should be, and just about everyone called each other once a week, if not more. Not all at once, mind, but- Bev and Eddie’s lunch breaks usually matched up, and Ben would be there too, sometimes. Mike would catch him in the mornings on Saturdays, Stan would catch him on Sundays in the late afternoon, just before dinner, and Bill would catch him in the wee hours of the night, when they were both still awake for whatever reasons. 

Richie called him almost every day- more than once, sometimes, if he had an off day on tour. Their conversations were long and winding- but, they always had been. They were half arguments, but never in a way that made Eddie feel like they were  _ fighting _ , and they always, always left him smiling. 

“Hey.” Richie picked up on the first ring. You wouldn’t think Richie Tozier would be punctual, but he never left Eddie waiting. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, and then, in a rush: “I’m officially divorced, now.” 

“Hey!” Richie repeated- a victory cry this time. Eddie could close his eyes and see him throwing his hands up in the air. “Ding-dong the witch is dead and all that. How’re you feeling?” 

“Like I need an antacid.” That could have just been the Taco Bell talking back to him, though. “But… good. It’s what I had to do, I guess.” 

Richie hummed. “What’re you gonna do next?” 

Eddie hummed back, matching pitch. “I don’t know.” He looked out the dirty window, into the rest of dirty New York.  _ You do not belong here,  _ the wisteria thoughts told him.  _ You never did. _

“What do you  _ want  _ to do next?” Richie asked. 

_ You shouldn’t be here anymore _ .

When Eddie was younger, he used to like trains. He used to like a lot of things; trains, cars, planes, boats, anything and everything that could take him somewhere. Anything that could take  _ somewhere _ , anywhere, that wasn’t Derry, wasn’t his bedroom in his mom’s house. Anywhere he could  _ breathe _ . 

He’d never been on a train before. Statistically, he thought, they were safer than planes and boats by a mile. 

“Where are you gonna be, for the next couple of days?” 

“I’m hitting St. Louis for the next two nights, and then heading back to LA for a couple of weeks,” Richie said. “Why?”

“I’m gonna head your way,” Eddie said, and then figured he should  _ ask _ instead, and added: “Is that okay?” 

“Hell yeah.” Richie was quick to say yes, and that lit something up in Eddie’s chest he told himself he’d look at later. 

He had always said he’d look at it later. When was later? 

“Gonna let me show you a good time, Spaghetti-O? Take you out for a tour of single life?” 

“I think I’m just gonna make you buy me pizza, and we’re gonna sit on your shitty couch and watch movies that used to give us nightmares,” Eddie said. 

Richie snorted. “Lame,” he said, and then: “Sounds like a plan. When am I picking you up from the airport?” 

“Not the airport, probably.” Eddie held his phone to his ear with his shoulder, and shuffled around in his work bag for his laptop. “Union Station.” 

“Union- Eddie, that’s a fucking  _ train station _ ,” Richie said, as if they both didn’t know. He knew Eddie knew. “You’re gonna take the  _ train  _ from New York to Los Angeles? That’s-”

“Two days,” Eddie said, squinting at some of the listings. “And a couple of hours, yeah. I’ll get there at like nine am, too.” 

“That’s ungodly, man,” Richie whined. “I’m supposed to be  _ relaxing _ .” 

“I can just Uber to your place,” Eddie said, scrolling through the ticket listings. “I’ll wake you up when I get there.” 

“You’re so  _ weird _ ,” Richie sighed. It almost sounded like a compliment. “Take your weird Eat, Pray, Love train journey, then, and I’ll make you eggs at whatever ungodly hour you get in.” 

“I’ll send you my ticket details, once I get everything sorted,” Eddie hummed. 

There was a beat of silence on the line. It’s not oppressive, but it’s heavy; neither of them are quiet very often, but when they’re quiet together, it’s just because there’s something they want to say, but can’t. 

“It’s gonna be nice to see you,” Richie said, at the same time Eddie said, “I really miss you, man.”

“I miss you, too,” Richie said, and there’s  _ longing  _ in his voice, at the same time Eddie said, “Yeah, it’s gonna be really nice to see you.” 

There was another beat. There’s more to be said- but, Eddie hadn’t let himself think about it, yet, because it wasn’t later, and Richie didn’t seem like he was ready to take the step, so they both just sighed. The moment passed, the heavy feeling shrugged itself back, and the topic turned to Richie’s latest shows, and exactly how much of Eddie’s shit Myra was getting to keep. 

He’d let her have pretty much everything, here; he didn’t want it. It didn’t feel like his. 

  
  
  


The train wasn’t at all like what Eddie had always imagined it would be- but that was to be expected. In his mind, it was a lot more…  _ Hogwarts,  _ for lack of a better touchstone; steam locomotive and lush cabins. His sleeper car is like your average motel- motel, not hotel- room, and the train itself is nothing so romantic. 

From the moment it pulled out of the station, he loved it. 

He watched New York City as it disappeared, and the weight that had been sitting on his shoulders since he got back from Derry started to lift, wisteria vines starting to part, just a little. 

He texted Richie a picture of his cabin, and then sent it to the group chat after. 

_ lmao did u go to prison?  _ Richie said, in the group chat. 

_ You good?  _ Richie asked, where the rest of the Losers couldn’t see. 

_ Fuck you _ , Eddie said, in the group chat. 

_ Great. I think I’m gonna, like, read or something, _ he said, just for Richie. 

_ Good. Relax, man. You’ll need your energy for our wild sleepover.  _

Eddie rolled his eyes for an audience of no one but his own fondness.  _ Why? You gonna piss yourself screaming when we watch Nightmare on Elm Street, again?  _

_ I was like fucking eleven when that happened, dude, fuck you _ . Eddie can feel the fondness in Richie’s words, too. 

It lit that thing up in his chest again. He didn’t think about it.

_ And, why not? _

New York was slowly fading behind him. 

Now, now was later. 

* * *

Eddie spent a long time thinking about it. He had brought books with him- crosswords, things to do; it was a two day train ride, with a four hour layover in Chicago sandwiched in the middle. He had a lot of  _ time  _ to think about it, and once he started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop. 

The starting line: Richie. 

Richie. 

Richie had always been special; he’d  _ felt  _ special when Eddie had seen his face, insufferable smirk plastered on his face, staring back at Eddie from the title screen of his Netflix special. 

He’d watched it, before he went back to Derry. A few times.

He’d hated it, every single one. 

There were a lot of reasons to hate the special; Eddie wasn’t really the target demographic, even if he fell into a few of the categories, so he could’ve just left his critiques at “it wasn’t my cup of tea”, turned it off and never thought about it again.

Except, he didn’t, and he couldn’t. 

There was something- right and wrong, about the cadence of the jokes, the way they hit. He didn’t _know _Richie Tozier- didn’t _know _he knew, anyway- but he knew that this wasn’t what he should sound like. This wasn’t how his jokes should roll off the tongue; there wasn’t enough _Richie_ in them. 

When he saw Richie in the Jade, he felt like his life was falling apart and coming together in one move. Clicking in his seatbelt as his car drove off a cliff.

When Richie admitted that he didn’t write his own material, the only thing he could feel was  _ victorious.  _ Even when he hadn’t known Richie, he’d known him  _ so goddamn well _ . 

And, then, everything. 

Not just the  _ oh my god, clown bullshit _ part of the thing, or even just the  _ I’ve missed these people who mean the world to me so much, for so long, and I only now have the words for it _ -thing. 

Also, the wisteria. 

The remembering came with feelings, and the feelings came with memories, and it all looped back onto itself. He remembered that- he loved all the Losers, but. Richie had always been  _ different _ , just a little.

_ Just a lot.  _

He remembered he was  _ scared _ of how Richie was different, just a little. 

_ Just a lot.  _

He didn’t get too much time to process it, in between the clown bullshit, because clowns weren’t fucking considerate. He didn’t  _ let  _ himself process it, once he went back to New York because old habits die hard. 

Because, he was scared of what processing it would mean finding out.

Myra wasn’t his mom, but Myra reminded him of his mom, and his mom had had some-  _ opinions _ , about Richie Tozier. She’d had opinions about everything, and always let Eddie know them, always made sure he had them etched onto his heart.  _ What would mommy think; what would mommy say _ ?

The things about Richie never stuck. 

The things that kept him from liking- not liking, but  _ liking _ Richie, though. Those did. 

He wasn’t a scared kid anymore, though. Myra wasn’t Sonia, and neither of them were in his life anymore to hold him back. 

Eddie  _ liked  _ Richie- or. Eddie  _ had liked  _ Richie, when he was a kid, too scared to admit it. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and it had spiralled past a crush a long, long time ago, as the Richie shaped hole in Eddie’s life sat in his chest, and then maybe even before there, while they were still in Derry. 

Eddie  _ loved  _ Richie. 

He wasn’t sure he ever hadn't loved Richie, and admitting it to himself had the same sort of effect that admitting he wasn’t sure he ever  _ had  _ loved Myra- not the right way, the full way- had. It was a weight of his shoulders, but only because it moved to his chest instead and changed form, comforting instead of choking. 

He could breathe by the time he got on the train out of Chicago. 

Los Angeles was still a day away. 

He loved Richie. Now, what was he going to do about it? 

He called him. 

“Hey.” Richie picked up on the first ring. For once, Eddie didn’t try to shut down the glow that this single point of punctuality lit in his chest.  _ He loved Richie _ . 

“Hey,” he said. “You get back in town alright?”

“Yeah.” Richie sounded exhausted, the word coming out half a yawn. “Real fucking late, though. I just woke up.” 

“Did I wake you up?” Eddie tried to sound apologetic, because he was, but he wasn’t sure if it was overshadowed by the fucking  _ joy _ he was taking in hearing Richie’s voice and  _ knowing _ . “Sorry, man.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Richie said, even though he was still yawning in between words, and probably would’ve told anyone else to fuck off and call him back later; Eddie knew him well enough to know that, and it felt like a power trip that Richie didn’t hang up on him. “How’s the trip going?” 

“Good,” Eddie said, the more tame version of  _ ‘I think I restructured my whole life’ _ or  _ ‘I don’t know who at Amtrak I need to send an Edible Arrangement for making me realize that I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what that meant, but I need to do some research.’ _ “It’s really nice. The food’s shitty, but… I like the ride.” 

“If you’re into watching empty fucking fields in middle America pass by, you should come with me on tour next time,” Richie snorted. “Be my groupie.” 

“Maybe,” Eddie said, thoughtful, and that seemed to catch Richie off guard. 

“Maybe?” he echoed. 

“I mean, I’ll think about it,” Eddie said, which was basically a ‘yes.’ “I’ve got… a lot of PTO saved up, and I can probably work from the road, anyway. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be, right?” 

“ _ Fuck _ yeah,” Richie said, sounding more awake now, but not by much. “You, me, and the open road, baby! And, like. My new manager, and the rest of the crew guys, and… okay, so there’s gonna be a lot of people there that aren’t us, but. It’ll be fun.” 

“Let me get off  _ this  _ trip first, Richie, before we start planning the next one,” Eddie huffed, shifting on his little sleeper bed to pull his legs up to his chest. “We’ve got time to take it slow.” 

Richie’s breath hitched on the other side of the line. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t have noticed it- or, wouldn’t pretended he didn’t, wouldn’t let himself notice it, but now, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah,” Richie said, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah, we’ve… we’ve got time.” 

“I’m gonna be coming in around nine, tomorrow,” Eddie said, trying not to let himself give too much away- but, his tone had shifted without his permission, softer, more private, even though it was only him in the compartment. A voice just for Richie. 

“Can’t wait,” Richie said. He  _ really  _ sounded like he couldn’t. “Eds, I-” 

“You’d better not leave me outside too long, when I get there,” Eddie said, forcing his tone back to normal- demanding, a little teasing. “I think it’s supposed to rain.” 

“It’s fucking L.A., man, it’s not gonna rain” Richie snorted, and there it was, moment passed, weight gone. Eddie could have addressed it, now, but… it wasn’t the time. 

Later was tomorrow, when he could do it in person. 

* * *

  
  


It was  _ pouring  _ rain, when Eddie got out of the station, and into his Uber. Of course it was, because Richie had said that it wouldn’t be but Eddie hadn’t believed that for a moment- and, right now, the universe seemed to want to tell Eddie to follow his instincts. 

Dangerous, considering what his instincts were leading him to, but. New life. Eddie could take a few calculated risks. 

He had packed an umbrella, but didn’t use it when he got out of the Uber, and hit the buzzer for Richie’s apartment. He was soaked through by the time Richie came down to let him in, and there was thunder cracking around them. 

The air felt electric. 

“Hey, man,” Richie said, in the same rush that Eddie said, “I’m kind of in love with you.”

He hadn’t meant it to slip out like that. 

Richie looked like he’d just been struck by lightning. “I’m- oh, I didn’t wake up yet,” he said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, smudging the lenses just a bit. “Obviously. Cool dream.” 

“You’re awake, dumbass,” Eddie said, brow furrowed, but Richie just laughed. 

“That’s exactly what you say in my dreams,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Eddie. 

They didn’t pull away until lightning struck across the street. “ _ Fuck _ ,” Eddie hissed. “Let me inside, asshole, before I get struck by fucking lightning and die.”

“I think I pissed myself a little bit,” Richie said, sounding distant, blinking. “That- I don’t think that would happen in a dream.” 

“Because you’re  _ not dreaming _ , idiot,” Eddie huffed, shoving Richie a little bit. “Inside, now, please.” 

“Oh  _ fuck _ .” Richie looked somewhere between awed and terrified, but at least he held the door open so Eddie could haul his bags inside and shake off a little bit. “This is real.” 

“This is real,” Eddie said, patience wearing a little thin, but fond all the same. “I told you.” 

“You said you were in love with me,” Richie said, pointing an accusatory finger in Eddie’s direction. 

“Glad to know you’ve at least got functional ears,” Eddie said, and Richie snorted as he picked up two of Eddie’s bags, and headed towards the elevator. 

“You said you were in love with me,” he repeated once they were riding up to his floor, sounding like he was having an epiphany this time.

Eddie hummed as the doors dinged open. “Because I am,” he said. “You said you dreamed about me saying it.” 

“Only every day since I was, like, twelve,” Richie said. He made an effort to make it sound off-handed, but Eddie could hear the tension underneath it. “Or- well, I was gonna say ‘not  _ every _ day’ because memory shit, but… I might’ve done it, then. I can’t remember a lot of my dreams when I’m blackout.” 

“ _ Jesus _ Richie,” Eddie said, because what could he say to that?  _ ‘I didn’t know’?  _ Maybe he had known; he knew that Richie was different with him, that he held his own place in Richie’s life. Maybe he’d just been too scared to put a name to it, because if he knew Richie loved him, he’d have to think about whether or not he loved Richie, and he hadn’t been ready for that. 

Now was Later, though, and he could stare it in the eye. 

Richie opened the door to his apartment, and shut it behind them once all of Eddie’s bags were placed squarely in the middle of his living room. When he turned around, Eddie could tell he was starting to say something else- probably something important. 

Eddie didn’t let him get the chance; he was kissing him before the first syllable came out, and when he pulled away, Richie looked too dazed to be saying anything. “I was promised breakfast.” 

“Right,” Richie said, an octave higher than he normally would. He came back to himself, flushed pink-  _ pretty _ , Eddie thought- and cleared his throat, repeating, “Right. Breakfast.” 

“I’m gonna change,” Eddie said. “But- I’ll help cook, when I get back.” 

“You just were on a fucking train for two days,” Richie said. “Go shower or whatever man, I can handle some eggs.” 

“I’m not sure I trust that,” Eddie said, but he was already grabbing one of his bags. “Just don’t burn the place down. Where’s the bathroom?” 

Richie pointed, and Eddie showered- and, surprisingly, thought about nothing. His mind was near silent as he let the water run over him, replacing the gross-rain-wet with a clean one, the scent of his train cabin spilling down the drain and replacing itself with something else. 

He stepped out of the shower, got dressed, and stepped into the kitchen to the sight of Richie flipping eggs and humming something- The Beach Boys, maybe? “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” 

_ This is where you belong,  _ the wisteria in his mind told him, blooming for the first time.  _ It always has been _ . 

“I meant it,” he said, and Richie’s humming stopped in its tracks. 

“You love me,” Richie said without turning around, like he just remembered it- maybe he’d thought he’d imagined it or dreamed it again. “You’re sure?” 

The question held a lot of things. Hope. Fear. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Eddie said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

“Thank  _ god _ ,” Richie said, and he finally turned around. Eddie thought he was going to kiss him again, but instead Richie bolted past him and to the bathroom. Eddie cringed at the loud, obvious sounds of retching, and frowned at Richie when he came back. 

“You okay?” 

“I love you, too,” Richie said instead of answering. “Obviously.” 

“You just  _ threw up _ ,” Eddie said. “You can’t tell me it’s  _ obvious _ .” 

“It wasn’t?” Richie snorted. “Eddie. I call you every day. I don’t even call my  _ mom _ every day- I don’t even call  _ Bev _ every day.” 

“I call  _ you _ ,” Eddie corrected. 

“And I pick up on the first ring,” Richie said, and now, he’s finally back in Eddie’s space. They shared breath. Richie’s was kinda rancid. “I don’t even do that for my manager.” 

“You’re brushing your teeth before you kiss me again,” Eddie said, somewhat breathless. “Also, you’re letting the eggs burn.” 

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

They ended up eating Froot Loops on the couch, touching but not quite curled up together yet, Richie’s arm slung over Eddie’s shoulder. “How long are you home for?” Eddie asked. 

“A month,” Richie said- with his mouth full, obviously. Eddie wrinkled his nose. 

“Mind if I stay here while you’re home?” he asked.

“Please,” Richie said. 

“Where are you touring, next?” 

Richie hummed, and graciously swallowed before he spoke this time. “Like… Arizona, SoCal, Texas. Hitting the Southwest, I think I’m ending in Vegas. Filming a new special there.” 

“Mind if I come with you?” 

“Please.” Richie was breathless this time. Eddie couldn’t help but kiss him. 

_ This  _ was where he’d always belonged.

The wisteria withered, and for the first time, Eddie breathed deep. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ neiboltwell!!!!


End file.
